Blackberry Wine

Jay smiled. ‘That’s quite a little soundbite,’ he said mildly. ‘But as you pointed out, Joe’s dead. This isn’t about him any more. Maybe it was when I first came here. Maybe I was trying to recreate the past. Trying to be Joe somehow. But not now.’

She looked at him. ‘You’ve changed,’ she said.

‘Perhaps.’

‘At first I thought it was this place,’ she continued. ‘This pathetic little place with its single stop sign and its wooden houses on the river. It would have been just like you to fall in love with it. To make it another Pog Hill. But that isn’t it, is it?’

He shook his head. ‘Not entirely, no.’

‘It’s worse than that. And it’s so obvious.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘It’s exactly the kind of thing you would do. You’ve found your muse here, haven’t you? Here among the ridiculous goats and scraggy little vineyards. How wonderfully gauche. How fucking like you.’

Jay looked at her. ‘What do you mean?’

Kerry shrugged. She managed to look amused and vicious at the same time. ‘I know you, Jay. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You never put yourself out for anyone. So why are you looking after her child? Anyone can see it isn’t just this place you’ve fallen in love with.’ She gave an angry titter. ‘I knew it would happen some time,’ she declared. ‘Someone would manage to light the fuse. At one point I even thought it was going to be me. God knows, I did enough for you. I deserved for it to be me. I mean, what has she done for you? Does she even know about your work? Does she even care about it?’

Jay poured himself a second coffee and lit a cigarette. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think she does. She cares about the land. The vines. Her daughter. Real things.’ He smiled at the thought.

‘You’ll tire of that quickly enough,’ predicted Kerry scornfully. ‘You never were one for living in the real world. You’ve never had a problem yet that you couldn’t run away from. Just wait till things get a bit too real for you. You’ll be off like a shot.’

‘Not this time.’ His voice was level. ‘Not this time.’

‘We’ll see,’ she said coolly. ‘Won’t we? After we finish Pastures New.’

AS SOON AS KERRY HAD LEFT, JAY DROVE INTO LANSQUENET, leaving Rosa with strict instructions not to leave the house, and blew off some of his anger on the phone to Nick Horneli. Nick was less receptive than he’d hoped.

‘I thought it would be a good bit of promotion for you,’ he said blandly. ‘It isn’t often you get a second chance in the publishing business, Jay, and I have to say, I thought you’d be a bit more keen to make the most of this one.’

‘Oh.’ It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and for a moment he was taken off-balance. He wondered what exactly Kerry had been saying.

‘Plus, I don’t like to rush you, but I’m still waiting for your signed contracts and the last part of the new manuscript. The publishers are getting edgy, wondering when you’re going to finish. If I could only have a first draft-’

‘No.’ Jay could hear the strain in his voice. ‘I’m not going to be pressured, Nick.’

Nick’s tone was suddenly, terrifyingly indifferent. ‘Remember you’re an unknown quantity nowadays, Jay. A bit of a legend, sure. That’s no bad thing. But you’ve got a reputation, too.’

‘What reputation?’

‘I don’t think it’s very constructive at this-’

‘What fucking reputation?’

Nick’s shrug was audible. ‘O?. You’re a risk, Jay. You’re full of great ideas, but you haven’t produced anything of real value in years. You’re temperamental. You don’t meet deadlines. You’re always late to meetings. You’re a bloody prima donna living on a reputation ten years out of date, who doesn’t understand that in this business you can’t afford to be precious about publicity.’

Jay tried to keep his voice level. ‘What are you trying to say, Nick?’

Nick sighed. ‘All I’m saying is be a little flexible,’ he said. ‘Publishing has moved on since Jackapple Joe. In those days it was OK for you to be eccentric. It was expected. Even a little cute. But nowadays you’re just another product, Jay, and you can’t afford to let anyone down. Least of all me.’

‘So?’

‘So I’m telling you that if you don’t sign the contract and finish the manuscript within a reasonable time – say a month or so – then Worldwide will pull out and I’ll have blown my credibility for nothing. I have other clients, Jay. I have to think about them, too.’

Heavily, Jay replied, ‘I see.’

‘Look, Jay. I’m on your side, you know.’

‘I know.’ Suddenly he wanted to get away. ‘I’ve had a bad week, Nick. Too much has been happening. And when Kerry turned up on my doorstep-’

‘She wants to help, Jay. She cares about you. We all do.’

‘Sure. I know.’ He made his voice gentle, though he was burning with rage. ‘I’ll be OK, Nick. You’ll see.’

‘Sure you will.’

He hung up with the definite feeling that he’d had the worst of that interchange. Something had shifted. As if with the removal of Joe’s protective influence he had become suddenly vulnerable again. Jay clenched his fists.

‘Monsieur Jay? Are you all right?’

It was Josephine, her face pink with concern.

He nodded.

‘You’ll have some coffee? A slice of my cake?’

Jay knew he ought to be getting back to check on Rosa, but the temptation to stay awhile was too strong. Nick’s words had left a nasty taste in his mouth, not least because they were true.

Josephine was full of news.

‘Georges and Caro Clairmont have been in touch with an English lady, someone from the television. She says she might want to make a film here, something about travel. Lucien Merle is full of it, too. He thinks it could be the making of Lansquenet.’

Jay nodded wearily. ‘I know.’

‘You know her?’

He nodded again. The cake was good, glazed apple on almond pastry. He concentrated on eating. Josephine explained that Kerry had been talking to people for several days, making notes with her little tape recorder, taking snapshots. There was a photographer with her, too, an Englishman, tres comme il faut. Jay read disapproval of Kerry in Josephine’s expression. No wonder. Kerry wasn’t the kind of woman other women took to. She only made an effort with men. It seemed that both of them had been in the region for some time, staying with the Merles. He remembered Toinette Merle was in journalism. That explained the photograph and the article in the Courrier d’Agen.

‘They’re here because of me.’

He explained the situation, from his hasty departure from London to Kerry’s arrival. Josephine listened in silence.

‘How long will they stay, do you think?’

Jay shrugged indifferently. ‘As long as it takes.’

‘Oh.’ Pause. ‘Georges Clairmont is already talking about buying up derelict properties in Les Marauds. He thinks land prices will go up when word gets out.’

‘They probably will.’

She looked at him oddly. ‘It is a good time to buy now, after the wet summer,’ she continued. ‘People need the money. There’s been no harvest to speak of. They can’t afford to keep unproductive land. Lucien Merle has already spread word in Agen.’

Jay couldn’t shake the idea that her eyes were disapproving. ‘It won’t harm your business, though, will it?’ he said, with an attempt at lightness. ‘All those thirsty people hanging around the place.’

She shrugged. ‘Not for long,’ she said. ‘Not here.’

Jay could see what she meant. Le Pinot had twenty cafes, restaurants, a McDonald’s and a leisure centre. Local businesses had closed down to be replaced by more enterprising outfits from the cities. Locals had moved away,